


Pinup Painting

by greenteafiend



Series: Pinup zine pieces [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Pinups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:35:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28952802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenteafiend/pseuds/greenteafiend
Summary: Shiro put a grounding hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you for accepting that graciously. And hey, look on the bright side, at least all the important bits are covered.”Keith rolled the painting up and put it away, fully intending to never look, think, or speak of it again.Later that night, when they got back to the castle—back to privacy—Lance took Keith by the hips, and backed him up against a wall.“Lance? What’s—” Lance silenced him with his mouth.Or, Keith is gifted a painting from a fan of Voltron that features him in a revealing little outfit.Lance is into it, and Keith is inspired.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Pinup zine pieces [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1516652
Comments: 6
Kudos: 96





	Pinup Painting

“Babe, would it kill you to smile?” Lance whispered in Keith’s ear. His breath was warm against the skin of Keith’s neck, and Keith felt him tug gently on the end of his braid, twirling it between his fingers. 

Now that they were dating, Lance was always touching him casually—brushing his hair out of his eyes, cupping the back of his neck, putting a hand on Keith’s shoulder, on the small of his back, entwining their fingers together—and Keith loved it. 

The little gestures that came so easily to Lance, that he seemed to perform without even _ thinking _ , warmed Keith to his core. 

He’d never felt this cared for, this appreciated, this  _ loved,  _ in his entire life, and he constantly found himself wondering if it was normal to be this happy all the time.

When he’d asked Shiro about it, Shiro had looked at him like he’d said something unbearably tragic, and told him—very seriously— _ “You deserve to be happy, Keith. You deserve to feel like this all the time, and I’m glad Lance is helping with that.”  _

“This looks cute, by the way,” Lance continued, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Keith’s ear, and shaking him out of his musings. “Who gave you this hairstyle? It looks  _ amazing. _ He must be a genius.” Lance’s lips curled into a cheeky grin.

“You really think so?” said Keith mock-thoughtfully, playing along. Lance liked it when he played along, and Keith liked the feeling of being in on the joke. 

“I  _ do _ . I hope you tipped him generously.” 

“Don’t worry.” Keith smirked. “I gave him what he  _ deserved— _ ”

“Does anyone else remember the good ol’days when Keith and Lance were at each other’s throats all the time?” Pidge interrupted suddenly, without looking up from the tablet she was typing on. Her tone was teasing. 

“Pidge, you ruined it, I  _ just _ got him to smile,” Lance whined. 

He slumped exaggeratedly back into his seat, and Keith realised how close their faces had been with proper distance between them restored. 

“I remember,” Hunk piped up, “can’t say I miss it though. I had to sit through so many of Lance’s monologues ‘complaining’ about Keith, whereas now, he tends to tell Keith things directly.” 

Lance spluttered indignantly. “ _ Who  _ is it exactly that listens to  _ your  _ monologues about  _ your _ lady love? You could stand to learn from me, Hunk. Maybe you should ‘ _ tell Shay things directly’ _ .”

“Nope, uh-uh,” said Hunk immediately, shaking his head decisively. “I’m gonna go ahead and continue pining from afar, thanks.” 

Shiro cleared his throat. “Guys, settle down. We only have one more party of winners to meet… although Lance has a point about talking to Shay, Hunk.”

Hunk groaned and blushed while everyone else laughed. 

The tall door on the other side of the opulent meeting room swung open, admitting the Minister of Extraterrestrial Affairs of Enov, who was in charge of all the logistics of Voltron’s visit. Trailing behind him like a row of ducklings, were civilians who had won a planet-wide lottery to meet the Paladins of Voltron. 

A hand squeezed Keith’s knee under the table, and when Keith looked over at Lance, Lance was already grinning back at him fondly. 

_ Smile, baby,  _ he mouthed. After that, Keith couldn’t help it.

He greeted each Enovian, put his signature on whatever they put in front of him, and let the others do most of the talking. 

People tended to gush at them, and Keith was awful at knowing what to do with compliments from people he  _ knew, _ let alone strangers. Lance however, was in his element—Keith knew very well how much he adored being admired.

The very last person to step up to their panel was visibly nervous. 

“Hi there, what’s your name?” asked Lance, open and friendly as always. 

“I’m Istri, a-and I came to see the Red Paladin.” They looked at Keith with wide, anxious eyes, gripping a document tube very tightly. 

“Do you have something you want to show him?” asked Shiro kindly. 

Istri nodded, uncapping the tube to carefully pull out a rolled up piece of canvas. 

“I made this for you,” they said, setting it down in front of Keith. 

It wasn’t odd for them to receive gifts. Multiple aliens had tried to gift the hands of their daughters—and on one occasion, a son—in marriage to Hunk. Lance had a collection of precious gems from various systems that had been given to him. Pidge had a collection of plants she’d been gifted that only clung to life because Shiro watered them, while Shiro himself seemed to consistently get gifted clothing that was too small and tight for him. 

So Keith thought nothing of spreading the canvas across the table to see what was on it, a polite ‘thank you’ already on the tip of his tongue.

What he saw made him choke instead. Made all the blood in his body rush to his face so fast it made him dizzy. 

Istri had painted him. 

It was a very good painting—Istri was clearly a talented artist—Keith’s skin looked warm, his hair was lovingly rendered, his eyes were piercing. 

It was just… 

It was a lot of skin— _ most  _ of his skin. 

It was the expression on his face—lips shiny and parted, eyes lidded. 

It was the way his body was posed—side on, looking over his shoulder, bent at the waist with his back arched. 

It was the tiny, frilly,  _ outfit, _ complete with matching knee high stockings. 

Keith felt like he was in a wind tunnel, with the air rushing past his face and filling his ears with static, stealing away everyone’s words too fast for him to parse them properly.

“Oh my goodness,” exclaimed Hunk, while Pidge snorted, before bursting into a violent coughing fit—served her right for laughing at his expense. Shiro thumped her on the back helpfully.

“I—I hope this is okay,” said Istri bashfully, wringing their hands together. “I did my best to study Earth fashions, and I tried to select something that would be appropriate for Enov’s climate, and flattering to Red Paladin Keith’s figure—” 

“Is that, um, an  _ apron?”  _ asked Hunk, cocking his head to one side, and squinting at the painting like that might help make Keith seemed more dressed. 

“A- _ apron _ —” Pidge wheezed, barely able to get the word out. “S’ _ only _ an apron.” She slapped her own thigh. 

Istri’s face fell, and they seemed to shrink in on themself. “Is… Is it not good enough? Does it not please you?” 

“It’s  _ great!”  _ said Pidge emphatically, giving Istri two thumbs up in lieu of more words because she was still struggling to get a hold of herself. 

“You certainly have an eye for detail. It’s, um, a very good piece of art,” said Shiro kindly. “That’s a nice…bow.” Shiro elbowed Keith, forcing him to exit the air tunnel.

“Thank you,” Keith managed to croak faintly.

Istri beamed, before collecting each of their autographs in a little notebook, and leaving with a spring in their step.

Keith was about to roll up the painting and shove it back into its tube, when it occurred to him that Lance had been silent throughout the whole exchange. It wasn’t like him to be silent. 

When Keith looked at him, he had a curious expression on his face. His eyebrows were furrowed, he looked slightly pained, and his gaze was fixed on the painting…

Keith wasn’t the only one to notice.

“It’s more of a gift for Lance than for Keith, isn’t it?” Pidge cackled evilly, causing Lance to startle violently and turn bright red, ripping his eyes away from the painting to glare at her. 

“Whatever,” he grumbled. 

“I’m just relieved it wasn’t  _ me _ this time,” Hunk injected. Two planets had giant murals of Hunk decorating the walls of their parliament building. Another had a very large statue in the city square made of dark soapstone, and there was even one that had carved his face into the side of a mountain—Hunk was popular. 

“At least in all of yours you’re wearing  _ clothes,”  _ Keith complained. 

“Hey, Lance, does an apron count as clothes?” Pidge teased. 

“Hey, Pidge, do those pictures I took after you ate the felkhoffer on Klyden count as blackmail if I didn’t delete them like I said I would?” Lance retorted. 

While the two of them descended into good-natured squabbling—(“I  _ knew  _ you wouldn’t delete them!” “I knew I’d need them as leverage one day!”)—Shiro put a grounding hand on Keith’s shoulder. 

“I’m proud of you for accepting that graciously. And hey, look on the bright side, at least all the important bits are covered.”

Keith rolled the painting up and put it away, fully intending to never look, think, or speak of it again.

* * *

Later that night, when they got back to the castle—back to privacy—Lance took Keith by the hips, and backed him up against a wall. 

“Lance? What’s—” Lance silenced him with his mouth. 

Usually when they made love, Lance was teasing. 

Keith was the one racing for the finish line and Lance reined him in. Forced him to savor it. To savor them. 

This time, it was as if something inside of Lance had detonated, and Keith was caught up in the shock waves.

After, as he lay in bed catching his breath, their limbs tangled together, Keith thought of the painting.

A very ridiculous idea occurred to him...

* * *

Was he really going to do this?

Keith thought about the expression on Lance’s face as he’d looked at the painting. The intensity, the  _ focus.  _ He wanted it on him. The  _ real _ him, not the painting. He wanted Lance to detonate again, and to channel all that energy into Keith as he had the night before. 

As a counterpoint to that, the storefront loomed above him, intimidatingly pink and glittery. Cursive letters spelled out  _ ‘bare fantasies’  _ above the door, and the display window was decorated with mannequins draped in lace and chiffon. 

Keith took a deep breath, and forced himself to enter—he was doing this. 

He told himself that it was something Lance would like, but would never ask him for, and Lance was so  _ good _ to him; Keith wanted to be good to him too. 

A tinkling bell summoned the clerk.

“Hi there, welcome to ‘ _ bare fantasies’.  _ How can I help?” 

“Um… have you got any… aprons?” 

* * *

Keith’s time spent in the store was a blur of horror and embarrassment, and in the end, he’d bought  _ everything _ the clerk suggested just to escape from it. 

When he got back to his room, he’d upended the bags on the bed, and now he was staring at a pile of lingerie, head spinning. 

This was a lot more than he’d bargained for, but at least he had a few hours before Lance was scheduled to return to try and figure out how some of this worked. He also had time to hide the evidence if he decided to scrap this idea entirely.

He unrolled the painting and laid it flat on the bed to use as a reference, before rifling through the things he’d bought until he found something familiar—stockings. 

Keith could do that, those were  _ easy _ . Like socks, but longer, right? He roughly shucked off his pants and boxers, before pulling on the stockings one leg at a time until they reached his mid-thigh, careful not to snag the sheer material. 

He found that when he let them go, they kept sagging down towards his knees. He vaguely remembered the clerk at the store pressing something into his arms for this very problem...

“Suspender belt,” Keith whispered to himself when he found the item in question among his purchases. 

He pulled off his shirt to fit the thing around his waist, and then he fiddled with the tiny clasps until he managed to make them attach to the tops of the thigh high stockings. Keith flexed a leg out in front of himself, watching the light reflect off the sheer fabric. He kind of liked the feel of it against his skin—nice and tight, the way he preferred his clothes. There was something comforting about the pressure. 

A glance at the painting let him know that all he really needed now was the apron, and the outfit would be complete. 

He picked the frilly, white apron out of all the other things he’d panic-purchased, and fastened the ties around his neck, craning his neck to be able to see what he was doing in the mirror.

Yikes. The apron ended  _ well  _ above the tops of his stockings, only _ just _ covering his ‘important bits’...

He was just trying to tie a bow at the small of his back, when he heard the electronic beep of someone unlocking the door. 

Keith froze in horror.  _ No— _

Lance wasn’t meant to be back yet. Keith hadn’t had time to hide all the extra lingerie, and he wasn’t mentally prepared for Lance to see him wearing this, he was meant to have time to work himself up to it— 

“Honey, I’m ho—” Lance’s greeting cut off, and he took in a sharp breath—Keith had been spotted. In the mirror, Keith saw him stood in the open doorway, haloed by light from the corridor. 

“Um…” Keith turned around and faced Lance, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to meet his eye. Cheeks hot, he fixed his gaze somewhere over Lance’s shoulder. “Surprise?” he said awkwardly. 

Lance said nothing. He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, and he  _ said nothing.  _

Keith could feel his pulse in his ears, as humiliation licked flames up his spine. 

“I—I thought you might—look, if—if I’m  _ wrong,  _ and this isn’t something you’d be  _ into,  _ I’ll take this off, and—”

Lance cut him off with an empathetic “ _ No.” _ __

Finally, Keith peeked at his face. 

This expression was better than the way he’d looked at the painting. He looked  _ awed,  _ and so so grateful, eyes raking over Keith’s form like they couldn’t decide where to settle. 

“No,” Lance repeated more softly, and then he drew nearer. “This is for me?” he murmured, voice low, and rich. He reached out to feel the lace lining the hem of the apron, taking it between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Yeah, it is,” Keith answered, a different kind of fire beginning to catch low in his belly. 

“God, you’re so beautiful, let me—can I—?” He took Keith by the shoulders and turned him around slowly, warm hands caressing every bit of exposed skin he could reach as he did it. His palms swept from the base of Keith’s spine, up over his shoulder blades, making that fire  _ roar. _ It was worshipful, and it made Keith shiver with pleasure. 

“So… you like it?” he ventured, once he’d made a full rotation. 

“I  _ adore  _ it.” Lance kissed his forehead, his cheek, while his hands wound around Keith’s waist, gripping tightly. Lance voice dropped even lower,  _ darker. _ “I adore  _ you. _ ”

Lance detonated for him like a supernova. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this piece for [Sultry Shots: A Klance Pinup Zine](https://twitter.com/klancepinupzine). If you wanna read what happens next, just click to the next story in this series ;)


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